Regrets
by OneLastRefrain
Summary: PostRENT A not so popular Bohemian says a real goodbye to a lost friend.


Title: Regrets  
Summary: Post-RENT - - A not so popular Bohemian says a real goodbye to a lost friend.

Word Count: 1,602  
Rating: PG-13  
Author: xoboshoexo / Nicole  
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

A/N: Well this was surely a different piece. A fic filled with angst and Benny Coffin the Third. I'm actually really happy with how it came out. This was my first Benny fic so be gentle. Reviews make my day, really, they do.

The last time I had seen any of them was last New Years Eve, when I stopped by to drop word to them that I was leaving, leaving the city, alone, for a job dealing with real-estate in Chicago. It wasn't the easiest thing to do either. Don't get me wrong, we hadn't been on the best terms for awhile, especially after marring Alison, my first regret. But there was still something that made my heart clench, especially as I knocked on the loft door, for what I assumed would be the last time.

I can still see Mark's smile that he greeted me with, before ushering me inside. The last time I had talked to him was on the phone, Christmas day as he told me about Mimi, the lost soul that had been saved by an Angel. I regretted not coming by sooner, but with Roger back, well, I didn't think he'd want to see me anywhere near his girl friend.

Maureen had thrown her arms around me, and I have to say, I was shocked as hell. Collins had given a good word I assume, especially after Angel's funeral. He flashed me a cheeky grin from his spot in the kitchen, fiddling with a champagne bottle.

The filmmaker had his hands in his pockets, looking slightly nervous, and it was clear as to why. My hand rested on his shoulder as I gave it a gentle squeeze. Now, it's hard to remember that smile he held in his eyes that night, but I remember, vaguely it was there and more alive than ever.

I was basically dragged in to the loft, the loft that once held so many memories to me. I remember the cups of coffee and the scent of the waffles that the four of us snacked on at midnight, telling stories and making fun of the people downstairs. I could still remember Roger and I, sneaking in to the bathroom after we first moved in, while Mark was showering, to steal his clothing and make sure every blind in the hallway was wide open. He easily sought revenge when he placed every pair of boxers I owned in the freezer, and hid Roger's fender in the back closet. We were cruel, but the thing was, we were together.

And just as quickly as we had become close friends in high school, we fell apart.

Joanne greeted me in the living room with a respectful grin and a glass of bubbly champagne, that I later regretted taking. But any source of alcohol was my resort at the moment in time.

I didn't stay long, just long enough to get a warning glare from the scruffy musician and a glimpse of the young girl I once loved, placed right in his lap, regardless of my marriage.

I wanted so badly to pull him aside and apologize. Tell him all the things I wanted to, all the things that I had told Collins and Mark throughout the past three months or so. But I knew he would make a scene.

I informed them I was leaving and where I could be contacted. It was only a matter of time until I'd get a call from one of them, surely engulfed in tears.

That call came three months later, from a tipsy Collins.

And as I lingered in the doorway to say a farewell to my old friends, I caught Roger's eye, for one last time. The life, the happiness was now gone, replaced with a cold and bitter sweet vulnerability I never imagined to see in his eyes. I was disgusted how something that was once so amazing and full of spirit was now dying because of one lousy mistake. I watched his lips part to speak, but they were closed within a moment and he looked down pathetically.

My chest stung as I turned away from him and disappeared out the door. I said a prayer that night as I laid alone in bed that he hadn't seen the tears of disappointment in my eyes.

And now here I am, sitting in my Range Rover, listening to one of Roger's old demo CD's he had recorded with his old band, years ago. The drive had been a long one, but I needed to do this, needed to talk to him.

My legs are shaking from my nervousness and the cold, but my mind is in other places as I make my way through the mushy grass. My black boots sink slightly in the newly dug up dirt that was saturated with tears from heaven.

It takes me awhile to find him and when I do, I actually feel a wave of nauseous ness crash over me. It doesn't take long for the tears of regret to stream down my cheeks as I look down to the grave stone.

_Roger Davis_

_July 18th, 1974 – February 15th, 1998_

_A Musician, A Husband, and A Best Friend_

'_No Day But Today'_

I don't even wipe away the tears, it's not like they would stop anytime soon. All I keep thinking is how much of an animal I was, how horrible I was to him, even in death. God, I couldn't even go to his fucking funeral. I even told Collins that it was due to an important business meet, but the truth was, I didn't think I'd be able to hold it together, not around them.

So here I was, with my knees in the soggy newly dug dirt, my hand gripping tightly to the gravestone, my head hung low in sorrow.

"I'm so sorry," were the only words that surfaced from my chapped lips. "God, Rog, I'm so fucking sorry."

I never imagined it would be this hard to say goodbye to my dead ex-best friend. But it was, especially when I hadn't even told him how much he had once meant to me, how much of an influence he was on my life. I loved this man, and yet, I could never tell him.

Instead, I hurt him; hurt him to make me feel better about myself. And now, I was filled with a bitterness that would not let me find peace. He haunted me in my sleep. I was seeing him, everywhere.

He didn't deserve this; he didn't deserve such a miserable fate. He was only twenty four, married to a wonderful woman, filled with aspirations and dreams. I was the one who should have been in the ground, not he.

I managed to get a hold of myself, my hand moving to smear the tears across my cheeks. "I'm sorry I didn't make it to the funeral… I just didn't think I could face them all again… face you." I wipe at the tip of my nose, leaning back on to my feet as my hand rested in the dirt below me, my eyes focused on the headstone.

"I just… I guess…" I found myself lost for words. "Hell, why am I sitting here talking to no-one? You're not here… you can't hear me…" I muttered, nearly bitterly more or less to myself. My eyes scanned upward for a moment and up to the gray sky. "I wish you were here… I wish I could tell you how sorry I am for everything… everything I did… how I acted…"

A crow screeched in a nearby tree, breaking the sound barrier and causing me to flinch, looking back downwards to the grave. "I guess I was jealous… of Mark… the connection you two had. I know we were close at times… but never like you two." I paused, trying to clear my thoughts as I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "I wish I could erase the past and we could start over again. But it's too late."

I pulled out a yellow rose from my jacket and placed in gingerly on top of the grave, kissing my index finger and touching his name. No other words could leave my lips, as much as I wanted to speak. When I pushed myself up, my knees soaked, I heard a twig snap beneath me, causing my body to go rigid.

My heart sank as I turned to face the small pale and thin dancer, beneath the winter jacket I had bought her a good year ago.

"You loved him, didn't you?" She asked quietly, a hand moved to pull her jacket closer around, her wedding band flashing in the sunlight.

My eyes fell upon Roger's gravestone and my hands moved to wipe at my stained face.

"He knew." Mimi spoke suddenly, taking a step towards me, her hand moving on my shoulder. I could feel myself growing more and more vulnerable as I gave in to her embrace, more tears leaking from my cheeks. Her hands slowly moved to wipe away the tears with her thumbs before I was wrapped in her frail arms.

We stood there until it started to rain, two people who shared a love for the same man. I said a goodbye to Mimi as I headed back to my truck before climbing in. In my ears I could hear the Musetta's Waltz that would lull me to sleep every night years ago. I could see him and Mark attempting to scramble eggs and make bacon for breakfast. And somewhere deep down, I knew he was watching from somewhere in the sky.

I'd never forgive myself for never telling him though. And though Mimi told me never to live a life filled with a regrets, that's something I'll go to the grave with.


End file.
